


A Day in the Life

by ladymac111



Series: Miss Holmes [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Parentlock, Slice of Life, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:32:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymac111/pseuds/ladymac111
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vignettes of life for Sherlock, John, and Alexa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shopping

**Author's Note:**

> Rated for language and mild sexual content.

14 April 10:35  
To: John  
I can't believe I let you talk me into this.

From: John  
What are you on about this time?

To: John  
Shopping with Alexa. Why am I the one doing it?!

From: John  
Because I actually have a job. Which I need to get back to.

To: John  
Don't you dare leave me like this! People are staring!

14 April 10:38  
From: John  
What do you care what other people think?

To: John  
I care if it means they'll throw me out of the shop, and then we'd have to do this again.

From: John  
Wait, why are they staring? What the bloody fuck are you doing that would get you thrown out???

To: John  
Nothing! I'm just following Alexa while she looks at bras.

To: John  
John?

14 April 10:40  
To: John  
Are you there?

From: John  
Yes I'm here

From: John  
Jesus Sherlock how did you get this far in life

To: John  
You're not helping.

From: John  
Maybe you should go lurk somewhere else while she shops for underwear.

To: John  
I'm not lurking.

From: John  
Are you wearing your coat?

To: John  
Of course I am, it's bloody cold.

From: John  
With the collar turned up?

14 April 10:42  
From: John  
Well?

To: John  
All right, yes I am.

From: John  
Has she talked to you at all?

To: John  
No, she's actually ignoring me.

From: John  
Then you probably look like a creepy middle-aged man who's following around a sweet young woman while she looks at underwear, and they're staring because they think she's afraid you're going to do something.

To: John  
But I'm her father!

From: John  
Just because it's obvious to you doesn't make it obvious to them.

To: John  
They're all idiots.

From: John  
Of course they are, love. But if you don't want to get banned from the shop you should probably just go wait somewhere until she's ready to go.

To: John  
Fine.

14 April 11:02  
To: John  
You were right.

From: John  
Ta. About what?

To: John  
They thought I was some sort of stalker. You should have seen the look on the shop attendant's face when Alexa called me “Dad”.

From: John  
I'm sure I'll get my own chance someday.

To: John  
I'm certainly never doing this again.

From: John  
What, after you've gone to all the work to figure out how it's done?

14 April 11:06  
To: John  
Go prescribe some antibiotics or something else unnecessary. We're having cake for lunch.

From: John  
I love you too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to credit Richard Feynman with the phrase "What do you care what other people think?"


	2. Interrupted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexa comes home early, surprising Sherlock and John, who expected to have the flat to themselves for a while.

The front door of 221 Baker Street opened, and John and Sherlock froze in a panic, mostly naked on the couch and tangled in one another.

“Fuck,” John whispered. “She's not supposed to be home yet.”

The door closed, and they heard a familiar tread on the steps.

“Jesus, Sherlock, where the fuck are your pants?” John tried to squirm away, but Sherlock pinned him.

“Hold still and follow my lead,” he hissed.

“Follow your lead? You're totally naked and the door in the kitchen--”

“Oh, John!” Sherlock moaned, far louder than necessary.

The footsteps on the stairs stopped abruptly at the landing.

“Oui, comme ça!” Sherlock gasped, and ground against John a bit for good measure. The couch creaked. “Oh, mon Dieu, je suis presque...”

John squeezed his eyes shut and tried _very very hard_ not to think about their teenage daughter, and instead focussed on the infuriating man why lay atop him. He ran his hands down Sherlock's back and groaned as he squeezed that plush arse.

Sherlock's mouth met his with a startled _mmpf_ and a click of teeth, and from the other side of the (mercifully closed) sitting room door they heard a murmured _“Jesus tap-dancing Christ._ ”The footsteps moved very quickly across the landing, then up the stairs.

Sherlock broke the kiss and leaned to the side, barely containing his laughter. John tried to glare at him. “That was bloody stupid. And mean.”

“It would have been much worse if she'd caught us. For everyone. And it worked, so don't say it was stupid. It was brilliant.”

The muffled opening chords of “American Idiot” came through the floor, and John laughed. “There's our song.”

“Then we ought to finish what we started.”

John pushed Sherlock off and stood up, then held out his hand. “How about in the bedroom?”

Sherlock got up reluctantly, and retrieved his pants from the desk. “It's unfair. I should be able to have sex wherever I like in my own flat.”

“Life isn't fair.” John slapped his bare bottom lightly. “Go get in my bed!”


	3. Run to Boots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are a few different ways to have fun on a lazy Saturday, and only some of them will get you teased by your dads.

“Papa?”

John didn't glance up from his laptop, but did half-nod towards Alexa, who was hovering in the doorway to the stairs. “Hello sweetheart.”

“Hey. Um. Could you do me a favour?”

“What sort?”

“Run to Boots for me?”

“To Boots? Are you--” He finally looked up, and did a double take. “What happened to your _face_?”

She heaved an exasperated sigh. “I need makeup remover.”

“I'll say you do.”

She scowled. “Papa.”

“Is that eyeliner, or what?”

“I was trying out liquid eyeliner, yeah. Turns out it's hard to use.”

“Since when do you wear makeup?”

“I was just trying it out. Playing around.” She crossed her arms and looked at the carpet sullenly. “I didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition.”

John got up and crossed the room with a lopsided smile. “Sorry. I'll run down to the chemist. Is there a particular kind I should get?”

“Anything that says it's eye makeup remover. And if it comes in a bottle get some cotton wool too.”

“If it comes in a bottle? What else would it come in?”

“I think there are, like, pre-wet things too. The bottle's probably a better value.”

“All right.” He patted his pocket to check he had his wallet, then touched her shoulder gently as he went by. “I'll be back in a few minutes.”

Alexa watched him set off down the stairs, and heard Sherlock open the door right before he got there. “Oh, fancy seeing you here.”

“Popping to the chemist,” John explained, and she could faintly make out the sound of a kiss. “Need anything?”

“Oh. Um. Sun cream? We're almost out. I think. Why are you going?”

John chuckled. “Ask your daughter.”

The door closed, and she heard Sherlock start up the steps. She flopped on the couch with a sigh, steeling herself.

His eyes fell on her when he got to the top of the stairs, and he paused. “Oh. YouTube?”

She blinked – his response was much milder than she expected. “Yeah.”

He took off his coat and hung it on the back of the door. “ _Twenty interesting things to do with eyeliner_ or something?”

“Or something.”

He smiled fondly, and sat beside her on the couch. “This look is a bit much for you, I have to admit.”

She couldn't help but grin a little. “Think so?”

“Hmm.” He brushed a lock of hair off her forehead. “You thinking of starting to wear makeup?”

“Not really, just playing around with it.”

“Good. I'm not sure I'm ready for you to be a makeup-wearing young woman yet.”

“Hate to break it to you, Dad, but at the moment I _am_ a makeup-wearing young woman.”

His expression turned a little sad. “No, you're still my little girl, just playing with it.”

“I'm not a little girl, I'm sixteen.”

“You have eyeliner on your nose.”

“Which is why Papa's at Boots.”

“Didn't quite prepare, did you?”

“Guess not.”

“It's all right, I've sent him to Boots for much worse.”

“I've sent _you_ for tampons.”

He nodded solemnly. “I haven't forgotten. The poor shop assistant looked like she was trying to burst into flame by force of will.”

Alexa giggled. “Like she'd never seen a middle-aged gay man buying tampons and paracetamol in the middle of the night before.”

“To be fair,” Sherlock pointed out, “I did have someone else's blood on my face at the time.”

“Oh right, wasn't that the same night Papa took down the bike thief on your way home?”

“It was indeed.” He leaned back, crossed his legs, and stretched his arm across the back of the sofa behind her shoulders. “So, it's Saturday morning, the weather's nice, and all three of us are free.”

She sat up with a bright smile. “Adventure time?”

“I was thinking Olympic Park?”

“That could be fun.”

“It'll be great for people-watching on a day like this. You can get cleaned up once your Papa gets back, then we can grab sandwiches on the way.”

“This isn't actually a cover for following a suspect, is it?”

He laughed. “No one in particular. But there are always interesting sorts out. Who knows, maybe I'll come across a case while we're there.”

From below there was a scrape of a key in the door, and Alexa got up and made for the stairs. “You put on your SPF while I wash my face.”

He grinned at her. “Yes, dear.”

 


End file.
